and these mistakes you make
by singsongsung
Summary: Puck and Quinn sing the songs of their summer.


**A/N: **This fic will span four months. Each chapter is divided into two parts, one for Quinn and one for Puck. The songs they sing in each part of those chapters will be thematically connected. Quite honestly, this fic was born of my wish for P/Q to sing songs from my childhood to each other in the summer, so that's kind of how it starts out. Other Glee kids/ships are present as well. Title, and individual chapter titles, are from Anna Nalick's "Breathe (2 AM)"

* * *

><p><span>and these mistakes you make (you'll just make them again)<span>

* * *

><p><strong>no one can find the rewind button, girl. (quinn; june)<strong>

* * *

><p>Summer burns through Lima, Ohio after Nationals.<p>

Quinn kind of feels like she's burning with it. Her classes stretch on and on, the clock ticking away slowly, the air still and heavy around students scribbling notes. Her home is hushed except for the quiet buzz of the air conditioner.

She feels hollow. Her grades are good enough that she doesn't have to take finals for most of her courses. Since Nationals, despite Rachel's insistence that they cannot lose focus, Glee club is more like a daily jam session than anything organized. Quinn doesn't go everyday anymore – sometimes she goes outside and sits in the bleachers instead, watching the Cheerios run through their routine over and over again.

She has nothing left to work toward. All of her goals have disappeared. Finn is gone. Her daughter is gone.

And Quinn feels like she could float away, drift up into the sky and never come back.

* * *

><p>Mercedes comes over on Saturday afternoon and they lay on Quinn's bedroom floor, silent as they soak in the cool air.<p>

Finally, Mercedes props herself up on her elbows. "Girl, are you okay?"

Quinn considers. "I feel…" She sighs. "I don't feel."

Mercedes nudges her, unsatisfied by that response, so Quinn sits up and crosses her legs and tells Mercedes – about right after the funeral, about Finn in his truck, about the way he'd talked to her like she was a robot.

And she gets a dramatic eye-roll in return. "Boy's an idiot. And a teenager. Don't let that get to you."

"But what if he's right?" Quinn asks, even though she knows he's not, not really. "What if I felt everything I'll ever feel last year, and now I'm just…empty."

"Q." Mercedes' voice is soft and gentle. "You're not empty."

She tips her head back and stares at her ceiling. "I'm just so…restless."

Mercedes bumps her knee gently. "That's a feeling," she points out.

* * *

><p>Rachel stands up at the beginning of Glee club. "I think we've completely lost our focus."<p>

Quinn sighs a long-suffering sigh, watching as Mike and Tina exchange amused smiles behind Santana, who is rolling her eyes extravagantly.

"You're not in charge of us, Rach," Puck points out.

There's a great deal of squabbling about that – Rachel insisting that she's their best singer and a club leader and therefore in charge by default, Santana arguing that _she_ should be in charge for whatever reason, Kurt and Mercedes opposing them both in favour of working as a team, without a leader, while Mr. Schue is gone.

Quinn tunes it all out. She's distracted by Puck – until he spoke, she hadn't really remembered that he was there. He looks the same as he always had, the set of his jaw firm and determined, halfway interested in the conversation, mostly participating only to antagonize others. Lauren is sitting next to him. They aren't touching.

She closes her eyes for a beat, searches inside of herself, thinks of her heart, waits for something to spark.

And, to her surprise, it does.

"I'll do it," she says impulsively.

Everyone is quiet, their eyes suddenly glued to her.

"_What?_" she snaps. "I said I'd do it." She lifts an eyebrow at Rachel. "Isn't that what you want?"

"I – I didn't know you were listening." Rachel, who has been walking on eggshells around Quinn ever since Finn dumped Quinn unceremoniously for her, looks apprehensive, like she's waiting for Quinn to pounce.

She rolls her eyes. "You said that there are two weeks left of school and you suggest we divide into two groups, one for each week, and that all of us should perform solos to remind us that we still need to hone our craft. And I said I would do it."

"You'll do it?" Rachel repeats, and the disbelief is clear.

Quinn lifts her chin and looks only at Rachel. "Sure. I have…a lot of things to sing about. Feelings. Y'know."

Finn flinches, she can see it in her peripheral vision. Mercedes is wearing a sunny grin. Rachel looks impeccably confused, and everyone else is silent.

Rachel's voice is small when she says, "So you'll – "

Santana spits out a string of frustrated Spanish phrases. "She _said_ she'd do it, Berry. Did Frankenteen break your ears along with your nose?"

"She was listening," Finn says shortly. "She was just…" He trails off.

Quinn is so over this whole conversation. "_Anyway_…" she prompts, brushing her fingers idly through her newly-short hair.

Puck slouches a little more in his chair and nods. "Yeah. Let's all do it."

So it's settled.

She is the first to leave the room. At least one set of eyes follows her all the way to the door, but she doesn't turn around to check whose eyes they are.

* * *

><p>"You are seriously hot stuff with your hair like that," Mercedes comments. "Have I mentioned that yet?"<p>

Quinn smiles. They're in her kitchen, making a salad for their dinner because it's too warm to cook. "Are you buttering me up?" she teases.

"Nah," Mercedes says, but there's a tiny pause beforehand that makes Quinn think otherwise.

She puts her freshly-chopped cucumber into the salad bowl and tries not to smirk. "Is this about Sam?"

Mercedes glances at her, surprised; she looks a little horrified.

"I saw you at prom," Quinn offers by way of explanation.

"It wasn't – an official date, or anything."

"Has he asked you out since?" she inquires, leaning back against the counter.

Mercedes shakes her head, focused on the tomato she's cutting up.

"Have you asked him?"

At that, Mercedes stops chopping and looks up. "Should I?" she wonders, and they both know what she's really asking.

Quinn is perfectly sure of herself when she says, "Yes. Brittany asked me to come over this weekend since they're opening up their pool for the summer. Santana will be there and I'll be a third wheel, so you should come too. You can ask Sam."

Mercedes smiles slyly. "That will make you a fifth wheel, Q."

She giggles and throws a piece of lettuce. She changes the subject, asks teasingly, "Have you thought about what you'll do for Rachel's assignment yet?"

* * *

><p>Sam ends up taking Mercedes on a picnic, which doesn't really surprise Quinn – Sam was an attentive boyfriend and he's a gentleman, so of course he'd plan a good first date instead of just a hang-out at Brittany's family's pool.<p>

It means that she goes to Brittany's on her own. It shouldn't matter, and it doesn't really, because for years they were a trio. Santana and Britt were Quinn's very best friends before –

Well. Before Puck, and everything that Puck led to.

When she arrives, Santana is lying on her stomach in a law chair, topless, wearing only a tiny pair of white shorts as she tans. Brittany is in the pool, swimming laps, her arms cutting smoothly through the water.

"Quinn!" she calls, swimming over to the ledge and resting her arms up against it, her skin glistening. "You're here."

She smiles as Santana peeks up at her lazily. "I am," she agrees, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head for a moment.

"You should get in," Brittany says brightly. "The water's great."

"In a minute," she agrees. She feels self-conscious. Santana is shamelessly, comfortably almost naked, her little body sprawled out comfortably in her chair; Brittany's bikini is electric blue and her body is lithe and sharp with curves in all the right places. Quinn is wearing her Cheerios-issued red and white bikini under her clothes, but she's still so very aware of her stretch marks.

Santana turns her head toward Quinn. "You look hot," she says lazily, sounding amused.

"There's a heat wave, San. Global warming? Ringing any bells?"

Brittany giggles in the pool and it's only then that Quinn realizes that Santana meant she looks _hot_, like, in the attractive way.

She looks down at herself. She's wearing a loose-fitting white tank top that drops a little too low in the front and doesn't quite meet the waistband of her cut-off jean shorts. Her flip-flops are a year old and unremarkable. It's an outfit she reserves specifically for summer, and only when she's with people she knows well and isn't trying to impress.

She flushes, says, "Thank you," several moments too late.

* * *

><p>Quinn dozes off in the lawn chair next to Santana's after she puts her sunscreen on. When she wakes up a half hour later, Brittany is in Santana's chair with her and they're giggling, kissing.<p>

She yawns and stretches her arms dramatically to let them know she's awake. She glances around. The sun is a little lower in the sky and Brittany's ipod is hooked up to speakers, playing music. Quinn recognizes the last few notes of _Unpretty_ (and thinks of Rachel Berry and her nose and the way Finn had loved her anyway).

She looks back at Britt and Santana. "TLC?" she asks.

"Don't knock it," Santana says with an easy laugh. Brittany's head is resting against her shoulder and she's got her fingers threaded through Brittany's blonde hair while Britt's fingers trace meaningless patterns over Santana's stomach. Quinn finds herself thinking that they look cute.

"I'm not knocking it." She listens to the next song start, finds herself remembering the lyrics from when she was younger.

Brittany reaches over and grabs her hand. "Let's swim now."

* * *

><p>In the evening, Quinn steps back into her short and tugs them up to her hips, zips and buttons. Brittany and Santana are still towelling off – which translates to Brittany looping a towel around Santana's shoulders and using it as leverage to pull her closer for a kiss.<p>

"You guys," Quinn says softly.

They both glance over at her, Brittany's face full of innocent curiosity and Santana's lips in a tight line like she thinks Quinn is going to call them out on their totally-not-secret love affair – like she hasn't known about it for years, she had _sleepovers_ with them, for god's sake.

She bites down on her lip, hard. "Will you sing back up for me?"

* * *

><p>"Why?" Santana asks, for what might be the thousandth time.<p>

Quinn is starting to feel snappish. "Does it matter?"

They're sitting around Brittany's kitchen table as their hair dries. There is a bowel of popcorn in the middle of the table that's almost empty. Brittany's got Lord Tubbington on her lap; he's purring loudly as she rubs his belly.

"I just don't get it," Santana says again. "If this is some big attempt to sing your way back into Finn's heart, it's not going to work. The song has nothing to do with him – he'll just get confused."

"I'm not going to sing to Finn," Quinn says stubbornly, and it's the truth. She's put enough of herself into that relationship this year, and she didn't get enough back.

"Are you singing it to make a point to Rachel?"

"_No_," Quinn grits out.

Brittany looks up and offers, "I think San wants to know who you're going to sing to."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "No one, I just want to – "

She's cut off by Santana, whose smile is dawning slowly, realization playing across her face. "Jesus Christ," she says, laughter tucked back into her throat. "This is too fucking good," she splutters.

Brittany looks over at Quinn with soft, kind eyes. "Lord Tubbington doesn't get what's so funny, either," she says helpfully.

So that's who Quinn's got in her corner. Brittany's fat cat.

* * *

><p>"We'll do it," Santana says when Quinn finally leaves to go home. There's something like <em>of course<em> in her tone. "One condition, though."

Quinn stands patiently on the front porch. It's odd. Two years ago she would have been staying over, but now it's just Santana and Brittany, an entity on their own, who will be spending the night holed up in Brittany's bedroom, probably under her sheets.

Santana's smile is mischievous and there's something like pride in her eyes. "Wear that outfit."

She can feel her eyes widen. "To _school_?"

"With sneakers," Brittany interjects. "Not flip-flops. You'll dance better."

Quinn sighs heavily and opens her mouth to argue, but Santana beats her to it, rolling her eyes.

"Trust me this _once_, Quinn," she says huffily, and then she closes the door in Quinn's face.

* * *

><p>It's more time than they've spent together in years, but there's something so familiar about it that it feels like normalcy.<p>

Brittany dances, her body moving fluidly, and Quinn follows her steps until her own body learns the movements in the same natural way. Santana stands aside with a bored look on her face for that part, and it's so much like stepping back in time that Quinn wants to laugh.

They flank her, Santana and Brittany, just like they used to, positioned on either side of her and about a foot back. Their voices fit in beneath hers and they move in perfect sync as they dance.

She's breathless and flushed by the time they're done, and when she says, "Thank you," they both look at her like she's got two heads.

But she's not head cheerleader anymore, and she needs this.

* * *

><p>Quinn doesn't wear her poolside outfit to school, but she packs it in her bag for Glee club.<p>

Rachel performs first – _to set the tone_, she says.

"I will be singing a song out of my usual style, which I believe is an important exercise for every artist," she says seriously. "It's _Do You Believe in Magic?_ by The Lovin' Spoonful."

_Do you believe in magic?  
>In a young girl's heart<br>That the music can free her  
>Whenever it starts…<em>

It's not typical Rachel Berry stuff, but it's upbeat and everyone dances along in their seats – Quinn sees Mike and Brittany tapping their feet and laughing together.

Rachel's singing right at Finn: _It'll start with a smile that won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try…_

Quinn expects it to hurt more than it does, but it's just this quiet sting that ebbs away slowly until it's almost entirely gone.

_Believe in the magic of a young girl's soul  
>Believe in the magic of rock and roll<br>Believe in the magic that can see you free…_

* * *

><p>After the applause, Rachel does a little curtsy, beaming, and asks who wants to go next.<p>

Santana volunteers her. She points a finger straight at Quinn and says, "This girl right here."

She has to rush off to the bathroom to change, and walks purposefully back to the choir room before she can talk herself out of this whole thing. When she gets back, Santana and Brittany – already in their chosen outfits, blue tank tops and short white skirts to match the colour scheme of Quinn's outfit – are standing in front of the room talking to everyone and laughing.

There is a beat of silence when Quinn walks in. Without meaning to, she looks right at Finn. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly open. He looks startled. Next to him, Rachel's head is tilted slightly, her lips lingering in something close to a frown.

So Quinn lifts her chin and strides over, taking her place in front of Brittany and Santana. She arches her eyebrows as imposingly as she can. "Let's do this?" she suggests, impatient.

The music starts and Santana comes in a beat later, humming lowly. Quinn has just enough time to take a deep breath and catch sight of the smile on Mercedes' face.

_A scrub is a guy that thinks he's fly  
>And is also known as a buster<br>Always talking about what he wants  
>And just sits on his broke ass<em>

"Woo!" Mercedes says, and Quinn finds herself smiling, wagging a finger through the air, twirling as she follows Brittany's choreography.

_So, no, I don't want your number  
>No, I don't wanna give you mine<br>And no, I don't wanna meet you nowhere  
>No, I don't want none of your time<br>And no –_

She meets Puck's eyes, smirks for just a second, sings her song out like a challenge (and maybe it is one).

_I don't want no scrub  
>A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me<br>Hangin' out the passenger side of his best friend's ride  
>Tryin' to holla at me<em>…

Quinn shakes her head and walks backward, sensing Britt and Santana perfectly in sync just behind her.

_And I know that he cannot approach me_  
>'<em>Cause I'm lookin' like class and he's lookin' like trash<br>Can't get with a deadbeat ass_

She notices, with satisfaction that she can't deny, that Puck's eyes are glued to her now, following her every move. She can't read his face, especially not when she's thinking about singing and the next steps, but he's looking at her. There's this surge of sudden confidence inside of her and she walks right up in front of him, sings the next lines with her chin tilted up and her hands on her hips.

_If you don't have a car and you're walking  
>Oh yes, son, I'm talking to you<br>If you live at home with your mama  
>Oh yes, son, I'm talking to you<br>If you have a shorty but you don't show love  
>Oh yes, son, I'm talking to you<br>Wanna get with me with no money  
>Oh, no<em>…

She rests her weight one leg, one hand against her hip as she shakes her head and arches her eyebrows, doesn't look away from him as Brittany and Santana pick up the chorus behind her. It takes a moment longer than it should for her to break eye contact, but she does, tossing her hair as she spins around on her heel, singing again.

_I don't want no scrub  
>A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me<br>Hangin' out the passenger side of his best friend's ride  
>Tryin' to holla at me…<em>

A lot of Brittany's choreography involves hip shaking and chest popping, hair flipping and a whole lot of attitude – it's all the kind of stuff that Quinn hasn't felt as comfortable with since she lost the security of her Cheerios uniform, but she does it all anyway, under the weight of Puck's gaze and Finn's confusion and the silence coming from everyone else.

_A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me_

Quinn stays perfectly still for several beats after her song is done (_finish, always stop for a moment and finish your performance_, her ballet teacher used to say).

Then she tosses her hair again, holds out two hands for high-fives from Brittany and Santana, and walks right out of the room.

Behind her, she hears the sounds of stunned, slow applause as Mercedes says _dayum, girl_. Her heart pounds hard in her chest.

* * *

><p>Puck accosts her after school. "What're you playing at, Fabray?"<p>

Her fingers twist in the strap of her purse. "Excuse me?"

He looks frustrated. "Were you trying to make Finn jealous? Is that what that was?"

"Of course not." She brushes her fingers through her hair. "Finn has a girlfriend."

Puck blows out his breath. "Were you trying to make me jealous?"

She blinks, all innocence. "Of course not. You have a girlfriend."

"As if that shit matters to you," he growls.

Quinn's eyes widen and she tells herself she's not hurt by that, _you are not hurt by that_, but it's too late. "I'm not here to discuss morals with you, Puckerman," she says quietly. "It was a song."

"You fucking _looked_ at me."

"Excuse me for having eyes," she spits back.

He grabs her arm, fingers encircling her wrist. "What do you _want_ from me, Quinn?"

She looks down. He's gripping her tightly, too tightly – her skin is turning white under his fingers and that might leave a bruise, but it doesn't hurt. She doesn't feel.

"I don't know," she says.

His grip loosens and then falls away, and it's weird, the way she misses it. They are quiet.

"Do you really think I'm a deadbeat?" he mumbles after a long time.

And Quinn doesn't know where it comes from but it's just there all of a sudden, welling up inside of her and she's crying noiselessly, tears slipping down her cheeks. They don't seem to stop and she doesn't bother to hide them.

"Q," he sighs, something like regret in his eyes.

"No," she says tightly. "I don't."

She runs away, sneakers pounding against the pavement, heat rising to her cheeks beneath the tears she's cried.

She feels too much.

* * *

><p><strong>tbc.<strong>

* * *

><p>Songs used are <em>Do You Believe in Magic?<em> by The Lovin' Spoonful and _No Scrubs_ by TLC.


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